A Touch of Destiny
by MadeleineBeverley
Summary: 'My name is Sophie Castle. You've attacked me twice, destroyed my house and killed my best friend. I am a human being from planet Earth who can see things before they even happen. I'm under the Doctor's protection...and I'm extremely pissed off. Believe me, you're not going to like what I've seen in store for you.' 11th Doctor and my O/C.
1. Prologue

**Well, I'm back! Had a short hiatus, did a bit of travelling and now I've returned to my comfy bedroom to continue with my love of writing.  
This story has been in my brain for about four years now and I've finally started to put it down on paper. Took me long enough!  
I want it to be a 12 episode series, like the tv series would be. I haven't decided if I'm going to put it all in one biiiiiig huge story, or split it into separate episodes. We shall see. But I'm very excited to share it and start this mammoth journey. So I hope you enjoy.  
Happy reading. **

**Prologue.**

I had my first experience of unconsciousness when I was fifteen years old. I was at school, running full pelt down the corridor because I was being chased by a dickhead called Jaxon Fields. He was in sixth form, on the rugby team and I'd just kicked him in the balls for standing me up on a date two days ago. The last thing I remembered was some idiot opening a classroom door and the stunned look on Mr Brentworth's face as I was barrelled into him, knocking him flat. Apparently it took ten minutes to bring me round and I woke up with a cracking headache. I also had a missing front tooth, ten stitches in my forehead and a beauty of a black eye. Safe to say I wasn't looking my best in my prom pictures a week later. And Jaxon never asked me on a date again.

This time, however, it feels totally different.

As I come round I know instantly that things aren't okay. I'm not going to wake up to Jaxon leering over me with a sneer on his face, or Mr Brentworth's wiry moustache muttering worriedly that he's going to get sacked. Instead, I'm sat upright; my neck aches and groans painfully as I pull it straight. So does my head actually. I feel like I've had a heavy night downing sambuca shots and jagerbombs. My wrists and ankles are bound tightly to the legs and arms of a cold, steel chair. I look up and find that I'm imprisoned in a white room. The walls in front and to the right of me are made totally out of glass; there's several men stood behind one, holding clipboards and tapping buttons, gathered around a large machine. The Doctor is behind the other, alone. His eyes are wide and frantic and his nose is almost pressed against the glass.

'Doctor,' I say, failing to hide the panic in my voice. There's a loud screech, like a microphone being held too close to a speaker and the men in white coats suddenly look up at me. I pull against the restraints on my wrist. 'What the hell did I miss?'

'Sophie – It's okay, I promise. Everything is going to be okay.'  
His voice is blurred by the glass but mine is echoing clearly through several large speakers. I feel like a zoo animal – everyone is staring at me, waiting for something to happen.

'What's happening?'

'I don't know – just try to stay calm.'

'STAY CALM?' I screech, tugging harder on the restraints. I hear the creak of a door behind me and I try to pull my head around to see what's going on. There's a murmur of voices behind me. I turn back to the Doctor, trying to gage his reaction. It's not a good one.  
He slams his fists against the glass so hard that it trembles in its fittings. The murmuring behind me stops suddenly.

'SHE IS NOT A WEAPON!' The Doctor bellows. The power of his voice grounds me for a second and a moment of calm sweeps over me. 'People tried this before with somebody I cared very much about and it didn't work… I don't know if you've heard of River Song?'

A few of the men in coats look around awkwardly. One of them drops his clipboard.

'I'm warning you,' he carries on. 'This won't solve your problems, I promise you. She is not the answer! She cannot give you the answers! It doesn't work like that.'

The murmuring behind me starts up again. I can hear something clanking and clicking. The men behind the glass have started pressing buttons on their machines and comparing notes on their clipboards.  
Oh god – they're going to use me as some kind of lab rat. I look at the Doctor again – there's nothing he can do to help me now. He's staring, stunned that he's been totally ignored. I can feel the men behind me, breathing down my neck, and a weird metal crown is place on my head. I try to shake it off but the crick in my neck sends fire shooting down my back.

The Doctor has his hands placed up against the glass again. I look at him – it's so hard to stay strong when he looks as though his entire world is falling apart. His eyes are flicking between me and the machine now coming to life. It's buzzing loudly; I can feel the vibrations through the metal on my head. I tense in my chair, terrified of what's coming next.

'Twenty seconds,' a voice behind me announces. There's a click of what I imagine to be a door closing and I'm left alone again.

'STOP IT!' The Doctor bellows again. He slams against the glass. It's hopeless. It's so thick there's no way he's going to be able to break it. He slumps his head forwards onto it, breathing heavily.

'Okay,' he mutters quietly. 'Okay.' He lifts his head up to look at me. 'Sophie, Sophie, look at me. I need you to listen to me. You know what they're going to do, don't you. I told you before. Do you remember?'

I nod quickly. My hands have begun to shake.

'Then keep looking at me,' he says. 'That's all you have to do – keep looking at me. You're going to be okay, I promise you. I swore, remember?'

'_Swear on something. Something important,' I tell him. 'Swear on your life.'_

'_That's not important to me,' he says quickly – far too quickly._

'_Then swear on mine,' I say. 'Because mine damn well is.'_

'I remember,' I say shakily. How could I forget that? That was the first day we met.

We've come so far since that day – done so much.

'Just keep looking at me, Sophie.'  
God knows how we got into this mess.


	2. A touch of destiny

**Chapter one**

_A touch of destiny_

You know when you're having one of those days when you feel like God is picking on you?

Yeah well, today is one of those days. Everything that could have possibly gone wrong, has gone wrong.

My alarm didn't go off this morning so I turned up forty minutes late for work. I laddered my tights running for the bus, didn't have any bus money on me so now I'm pretty sure I owe the driver some kind of sexual favour for my ticket (he was welsh, so I'm not really sure what he asked for in exchange) my computer in the office decided to delete everything I'd been working on for the past two weeks and I earned my second disciplinary for trying to break into the vending machine on the fourth floor. I don't think I've ever been this tetchy in my life – I swear if somebody even looks at me right now I'm going to punch them.  
So this where my story starts. Picture me running, no, _sprinting_, in heels, in the rain towards the bus stop about a hundred metres down the road from where I work as, once again, the bus timetable changed and nobody bothered to put the new one up. I can see the bus pulling up. It's within my sight but there's an elderly lady beside me rushing too with her walking stick. Her eyes are set firmly on the bus shelter and I can sense her destination is the same as mine. Her stick is unstable and the grip on the bottom slips as she leans her weight on in. For a moment I'm terrified that she's going to fall but she manages to steady herself. The next step she takes, however, she's not so lucky. The stick slips right out from underneath her and she topples over onto her side. The pavement is soaked through and she's only wearing a thin rain mac. It's hardly going to keep this weather at bay. I look towards the bus longingly and then back towards the lady on the ground. Unfortunately, all those fairy tales you're told at school with the silly little morals about helping the poor, and treating others as you wish to be treated, have stuck with me and I've found myself obligated to stop and help this poor woman. I watch the bus pull away from the bus stop, sigh heavily, and bend down the help the woman to her feet. She's absolutely freezing as I take her hand and pull her upright and her coat is completely soaked through. She looks at me like I'm the kindest human being she's come into contact with, which makes me feel bad because I was seriously contemplating leaving her for the warmth of the bus. For some reason, my mouth opens before I can stop it and I found myself asking if I can buy her a cup of coffee. My grandmother would be so proud.

There's a small café on the other side of the street where I spend many of my mornings hungover, depressed and with my face in a full English breakfast. I'm too well known in this place; as I walk in the guy behind the counter calls my name and waves me over.

The lady settles herself into a booth beside the window and shrugs off her sodden coat. I walk up to the counter and order two large cups of coffee.

'Sophie!' the guy behind the counter says enthusiastically. 'No hangover today then?' He's grinning at me. It's one of those awkward situations where you're supposed to know who the other person is, or at least know their name, and I really don't. His identity has completely escaped me and I find myself staring back at him like an idiot.

'It's dinner time,' I say blandly. I really don't want a conversation with this guy.

'I don't know,' he says. 'I've seen you in here some Saturday afternoons looking pretty worse for wear!'

Great. Not only does he watch me when I come in here, he also thinks I look like a complete state. A stalker who doesn't even think you're attractive. That's probably the lowest point of my life.

'Who was the lady you came in with?' he asked, fixing our drinks. I shrug.

'She fell over in the street, just thought I should help her out.

I glance at the clock on the wall behind the coffee guy. He catches my eye and grins at me again.

'Somewhere to be?' he asks.

'I was meant to be home an hour ago and now I'm buying coffee for an old lady. Strange how the world works, isn't it?'

He's just about to ask me another question when the café door bursts open and an odd looking man in a bow tie and a purple tweed jacket bursts in. He looks like one of those indie types who rides a bike with a wicker basket, hangs a large Polaroid camera around their neck and calls themselves a 'photographer.' He slams the doors quickly behind him and runs both his hands through soaked, bedraggled hair. He pivots on the spot and then almost looses his balance, seemingly shocked as he notices that the whole café has watched his grand entrance.

'Ah,' he says, pulling on his jacket lapels nervously. His eyes meet mine for a brief moment. The crease in his brow seems to twitch and curve frantically. I look away. I do not want to get into a conversation with anybody else. I've done my good deed for the day and bought coffee for a very wet, old lady. I just want to go home and get tonight over with.

'Chips!' I hear him declare suddenly. He leaps into the seat I'm stood beside and settles himself awkwardly. 'I love chips, me.'

When coffee guy asks him if he'd like small, medium or large, the man looks so confused I think he's going to start crying. Instead, he begins feeling up his jacket pockets, muttering something about Earth money and never having any on him.

I take this as my cue to move away and return to my charge with the coffees.  
The old lady drinks her beverage and when she's finished she writes down her mobile number on a napkin.

'If you ever need to talk to someone,' she says, handing it over and then she gets to her feet and hobbles out the café without so much as a backward glance. I look down at the number. Do I look that depressed or something? Or crazy?

My eyes find the clock again. Seven o clock. I look away guiltily. Alex is going to be so mad at me.

Coffee guy brings me another drink, sensing that I'm not ready to go home just yet though it's just me and the tweed jacket guy left in the cafe. I take a sip of my drink and when I look up again tweed jacket guy has positioned himself opposite me with his plate of half eaten chips.

I'm completely ready to throw hot coffee in his face and pull out my rape alarm but he's looking at me with such a strange intensity that I can't help but look back. I'm completely frozen by his eyes. For some reason I can't make myself get up and move, so instead I say, 'What?' in the rudest voice I can manage.

'Chip?' he asks, pushing the plate towards me.

I push it back. 'No.'

His lips pull up into some kind of half smile and he leans back in his chair. 'You're not really a people person, are you?' he says.

I shake my head. 'Not today,' I say.

'It was kind of you to help that woman,' he says. I ignore him even though I'm intrigued. I hadn't noticed him in the street earlier.

He shovels a handful of chips in his mouth and carries on talking. 'Not many people would do that nowadays. Everyone is so busy all the time.'

'You're not busy,' I say. 'Otherwise you wouldn't be here annoying me.'

'Me?' he replied. 'I'm not busy. Never busy. I'm too busy to be busy, you see. Always got stuff going on.'

'Well apparently not today as you've wasted about an hour in here and only eaten half a plate of chips.'

He sits back in his chair, giving me a calculating look. There's an odd half grin on his face. 'I'm a slow eater,' he says eventually.

I roll my eyes and decide I've had enough of this weirdo. 'Right,' I say. 'Well, this has been great and all but I'm going to leave now. Enjoy your chips.'

I stand up to go and walk past him but he latches onto my arm and pulls me back. Coffee guy is out the back somewhere and the streets have filtered out so there's nobody around to witness what happens next. The man places both his hands either side of my head; he's surprisingly gentle for someone who is probably going to rip your face off any minute.

'What the hell!' I cry, scrabbling at his hands. 'Get off me!'

'I'm not going to hurt you, Sophie' he says firmly. 'Just, let me look.'

His eyes are doing that weird freezing thing again and I find that I've stopped struggling against him. His gaze flicks between my right and my left eye for a few seconds and he frowns as if he's trying to work something out.

'How do you know my name?' I ask him, suddenly feeling very worried.

'Have you noticed anything strange recently?' he asks me, ignoring my question. I raise my eyebrows at him. He's got his hands clamped to my face… what does he think?

'Any short term memory loss, blackouts?'  
I find myself shaking my head at him.  
'Nothing at all?'

'Not that I've noticed – ' Hang on, why am I answering him? I throw his hands off me and step backwards.

'If you try that again, I will kick you in the nuts. I'm not even joking.'

I turn and walk out the door, trying desperately to hold my composure. Thankfully I don't hear the door open again and after a few quick paces down the street I break into a full blown sprint. For the first time today, I can't wait to get home.


	3. A fleeting meeting

**Chapter two**

_A fleeting meeting_

By the time I've shut the front door behind me, my room mate Alex has sashayed into the hallway, snapped his fingers and is now pointing at me with a perfectly manicured fingernail demanding to know where I've been. His hair is pulled up into his usual quiff and I'm pretty sure he's had a spray tan – he smells like a biscuit.  
He's got to be the gayest straight man I know.  
Strange right?  
He bangs _girls_. And from what I hear coming from his bedroom most nights, he's pretty damn good at it too. He's an absolute pulling machine, even though he looks like he belongs on a cruise ship. He's put his suit on tonight. I know how much he hates wearing that thing so I guess I'm in even more trouble then I expected.

'Two hours late,' he says, pointing to his watch. 'Two hours! Where have you been?'

I shrug and take my coat off. 'An old lady fell over so I bought her some coffee.'

'And that took two hours?'

'We really hit it off. In fact she's coming round next Thursday to play cards.'

Alex raises his eyebrow, not sure whether to believe me or not.

'Your dad is in there' he says, pointing towards the living room.

I am immediately filled with anger. 'He's here!' I hiss. 'Why the hell did you invite him over?'

'I didn't!' Alex insists. 'He just turned up and I couldn't leave him on the doorstep in the rain could I?'

'Yes Alex, you could have.'  
'Sophie, come on. Have a little heart.'

He knows he's got to me, I can see the look in his eyes. He tries to backtrack furiously.

'Well, I mean, come on, he's hurting as much as you are.'

'Is he?' I demand, raising my voice purposely. 'Is he though? Because last I checked he ran out on all of us fifteen years ago, leaving mum to raise two kids by herself. And now he's sitting in her front room and mum isn't even here to kick him out herself!'

I stop my rant and allow my frustrations to come out in large, heavy breaths. Alex watches me for a few seconds before saying casually,

'So, today, I had a woman grope me in the shop in front of everyone.'

I laugh loudly. I love his ability to completely switch the mood in a room. It's one of his more useful talents, as well as getting free drinks and being an excellent wing man.

'Yeah, who was that?' I ask.

'My boss,' he says shrugging.  
'Seriously? Over your trousers or underneath?'

'Oh, she was way underneath,' he says. He grins as he sees I'm smiling again. 'Come on, let's get this over and done with. You're not the only one who doesn't want to be stood in a grave yard in the dark.'

I grab my coat again, deciding I look smart enough in my work uniform. I ignore the ladder in my tights. 'Alex, for the last time, zombies aren't real.'

'I know what I saw, Sophie!'

Luckily, my dad has fallen into step beside Alex and they're at least three strides ahead of me. He knows I don't want him here. By all means he can visit my mum and my sister; I have no problem with that. What I do have a problem with is him crying, sniffing into a tissue and trying to apologise to me for a lifetime's worth of mistakes. I've not seen him since their funeral last year. I've barely spoken to him on the phone. He looks old for his forty years. I'm not surprised. A lifetime's worth of alcohol will do that to you.

'So you know you got groped today, Alex? Well I had a man grab hold of my face in a café earlier on.'

I stop walking, unsure why I just blurted that out. Alex and my dad turn to face me.

'He grabbed you?' Alex said. 'What like an 'I'm going to rape you' grab?'

I shrug. 'He probably just found me irresistible.'

I don't know why I said that either. Obviously the weird guy in the tweed jacket has got to me more than I thought.

Alex shuddered and came over to wrap an arm around my shoulder. 'Weird,' he said. 'Maybe he's got plans to kidnap you and keep you in his dungeon.'

I swat him hard on the shoulder. 'Alex, that's sick!'

'He'd have to get through me first,' he says, planting a kiss on the top of my head.

The graveyard is completely empty when we get there. I'm not surprised; Alex says it's nearing eight o clock now. The willow trees are overhanging the pathways as usual and we find ourselves having to fight our way through them. My mum and my sister were buried next to each other. Their headstones say the usual rubbish: 'A loving mother and a caring sister' or whatever. My sister's should have read 'An irritating brat who nicked all my clothes and makeup without asking.'  
My dad is already crying again. I roll my eyes and Alex wraps his arm around me again.

'Are you going to cry this time?' he asks me.

'Nope,' I say. 'Waste of valuable water that my body needs.'

'Don't you feel sad or something?'

I shake my head. 'I don't feel anything.'

'You were with them when it happened, Sophie, you must feel _something_.'

I'm hit with the usual sense of panic when somebody tries to talk about what happened that night. I shrug him off me.

'I'm not talking about it,' I say.

'Come on, Soph, it's been a year. You've got to talk about it some time.'

'No, I don't,' I snap. I turn my back and walk off. I can hear Alex calling after me and my dad still crying and wailing about how he's sorry. I ignore them both. The bitter air manages to keep my head focused and I don't let the memories of that night flood in. I'm walking quicker than I thought as I'm already in the street and passing by that stupid little café I was in earlier. My head is down; I'm watching my feet splash through the puddles when suddenly I collide hard with a figure.

I stumble, taken aback, but don't have time to right myself. The figure is already pushing me backwards an alleyway. My heart begins to thunder in my chest. My legs feel like jelly beneath me as my back is slammed up against the wall. I wince, using my hands to scrabble furiously at the fingers around my throat. I bet it's the tweed jacket guy from earlier. I'm such an idiot. I should have phoned the police. Stupid, preoccupied mind. They'll find my body chopped up into bits along a canal or something – my picture will end up on the news. Oh god. I try to pull my eyes open long enough to see my attacker. Their face is covered in a black hood but I can feel their breath, hot and sticky on my face. I try to pull my head away but firm hands keep it still.

'What do you want with me?' I ask, voice barely above a whisper as the air is squeezed out of my lungs. They move their head closer to mine and for an odd moment I think they're going to lean in for a kiss. I clamp my lips together tightly, kicking out with my weak legs.

'HEY!'

A voice startles my attacker and all of a sudden I'm dropped to the floor. I didn't even realise I'd been lifted off it. I watch the black figure flee out of the alleyway and I cough furiously for a few moments, dragging in large gulps of air and quietly thanking god that I hadn't been chopped up into tiny bits.

'Are you alright?' a voice asks gently.

Hang on, I recognise that voice. And when I look up, my heart sinks.

'_You_!' I wheeze. 'Great, this is just what I need.'

The tweed jacket guy points to himself. 'Me?'

'Are you stalking me? Damn it, I knew you were a stalker. I should have just phoned the police earlier when you tried to rip my face off!'

'Did I?' the man said incredulously. 'Why would I do that?'

'How would I know!' I shout. 'Look, I've had a really shit day so, if you're planning on kidnapping me and taking me to your dungeon I wouldn't bother. Just kill me now.'

The man swallows. 'I'm not going to kill you,' he says quietly. He holds out a hand. I eye it cautiously for a few moments before accepting it and allowing him to pull me upright. He seems genuinely concerned. He's glancing at my neck so I imagine I've got some pretty hardcore bruises appearing.

'We've met before then?' he asks.

I stare at him, completely dumbfounded. 'Earlier today, like three hours ago in that café down the street… Are you drunk or something?'

The man is eyeing me curiously. 'Things don't exactly happen to me in the right order,' he says. 'It can all get very messy.'

'Alright,' I say, backing away slightly. 'Like I said, I've had a really rough day. I'll make you a deal. If you promise not to kill me, I won't go to the police and dob you in, how about that? Do we have a deal?'

'Why would I want to kill you?'

'I have no idea,' I mutter. 'But this is really just my luck. I always knew I was the type of person who was going to end up getting murdered. And now I've met two nutters in one day!' I let out a slightly hysterical laugh.

'Nobody is getting murdered!' the man insists loudly. 'At least, not by me.'

'Do we have a deal?' I say again.

The man drags his gaze up to mine. 'Yes.'

'I mean – no surprise attacks during the night or anything. This is it – no more stalking?'

He regards me silently for a while. His eyes scan my face just like they'd done back in the café; it's like he's x-raying me.

'No more stalking,' he says eventually. 'Are you sure you're alright?'

I breathe a sigh of relief and nod. I didn't think reasoning with a maniac would be quite this easy. He holds out his hand to me and does a weird lopsided grin.

'I'm the -' he starts cheerfully.

'And I'm going,' I cut him off, sidestepping him and heading back down the street towards my house. I quickly check back over my shoulder and find he's watching me.  
I break into a run for the second time today.


	4. Third time lucky

**Chapter three**

_Third time lucky_

'You left me alone, in a graveyard, with your dad who insisted on crying on me for an hour until I took him to the pub and fed him beer until he fell asleep.'

Alex is pointing at me again. I raise my eyebrows.

'You gave him beer?'

'Non alcoholic,' Alex says, 'Who do you think I am?'

I shake my head as an apology. 'I know, I'm sorry. I've not been very nice today have I?'

Alex gives a half smile and shoves me hard in the shoulder. 'You're never nice. You're a grumpy old cow.'

He always knows how to lighten the mood.

I decide not to tell Alex about the guy who almost strangled me to death. I've covered up the marks on my neck with Alex's foundation. (Yes, I said Alex's foundation) I should be more worried I guess that somebody just tried to murder me, or rape me or whatever they were planning to do. But for some reason I cannot get the guy with the tweed jacket out of my head. He was in the right place at the right time. If it wasn't for him…I'd probably be dead. And I find myself automatically wanting to tell Alex that I'd seen him again.

'Guess who I saw when I was walking home,' I say before I can stop myself. Alex just shrugs at me. 'That guy who grabbed my face earlier.'

I think this is the first time in my life I've seen Alex look worried. He's sitting up straight in his chair now with a frown on his face. He stops quickly though as he's terrified of getting wrinkles.

'Serious?' he says.

'Yup. He didn't even remember that he spoke to me earlier. But we've made a deal. He's not allowed to stalk me anymore.'

Alex bursts out laughing. 'Soph, you are the only person I know who could bargain with a psycho.'

'It's one of my many talents.'

We sit on the sofa together for another hour at least. Alex is engrossed in his cosmopolitan magazine and keeps reading me sex tips. He's circled a few that I have a horrible feeling he's going to cut out and stick to the bathroom mirror. He gets bored when I stop responding to his sly digs about not having a social life and heads up to bed. I follow about ten minutes later.

I can't sleep. It's not unusual for me to lie awake for several hours before I'm so exhausted that my body just shuts down. My brain is especially over-active tonight and keeps replaying the events of today; the old lady falling over, me missing my bus, the strange man who felt up my face, almost being choked to death... Something feels terribly ominous about the whole thing. And it's as I'm pondering this that I hear it;  
the ear piercing sound of the front door being shoved in and out of its loose frame by the shitty kids who live next door. I sigh, exasperated, and drag myself out of my gloriously warm bed. I meet Alex on the landing. He's got an empty vodka bottle raised above his head, ready to attack. I try not to roll my eyes.

'It's just next doors kids again,' I tell him.

Alex gives a nod and then screams, 'OI YOU LITTLE BRATS, I'M CALLING THE POLICE!'

We lean over the banister to watch the little shits scarper – but the door is still banging around in its frame. I look at Alex who just shakes his head at me.

'I'm not going down there,' he says. He points to his face. 'This is the money maker! If one of those little bastards throws a brick at me, then my source of income is over. We'd have to move out, get a horrid little flat in town – '

'Alright, alright, can I have the bottle then?' I ask, holding out my hand.

'Good idea, you can batter them.'

'Alex, I can't actually hit children with a vodka bottle. I'm just going to scare them off.'

I start down the stairs, the bottle raised above my head.

'I'm dialling 999 right now!' I call threateningly. Alex shouts 'Yeah!' in some kind of attempt to back me up. As soon as I reach the front door, the banging stops and the door settles back into its frame. I peer out through the double glazed windows for a few seconds; I can't see any kids running for their lives away from the crazed woman with a bottle though…  
I turn back to Alex and shrug.

'Gone!' I call happily.

And then the window smashes behind me. I shriek, jump about ten foot in the air and spin around. What I can see is probably going to haunt me for the rest of my life. A pair of silver, skeletal hands are tearing their way through shards of glass in an attempt to grab hold of me. I scream again and try to batter them away. That nut job just punched through double glazed windows! His hands have got to be smarting so I swing the bottle down hard onto them. It smashes and leaves nasty remnants of Vodka coated glass in his knuckles. I sprint back up the stairs towards Alex with the remainder of my weapon. He's just staring wide eyed at the door which, with one ridiculously loud crack, comes straight off its hinges and flings into my hallway. Well, that's certainly not a bunch of kids at my door. It's a huge, growth of a man. A black hood covers the majority of his face; I can only make out his mouth and chin in the darkness. His teeth are so sharp, I'm almost sure he's a vampire until I remind myself that vampires aren't real. Edward Cullen is not going to jump through my window and save me. Actually, I'm pretty sure Alex would much rather be saved by him than I would. I'd probably just punch him. Twilight makes me sick to my stomach.

The rest of his body is layered in thick dark fabric which clings to his him in an odd morph suit-esque manner. I can't see his feet as he steps over the threshold and into my hallway. He almost seems to glide across the floor as though he has no feet at all. I almost laugh at that. Surely he's got feet under there somewhere…

His head tilts and he looks straight up the stairs – straight at me. My heart almost stops beating for a second and I clutch hold of Alex's hand. You know how sometimes you wish there was a soundtrack playing in all the truly epic moments of your life? Well, right now all I can hear is that awful nursery rhyme from Nightmare on Elm Street playing over and over. Alex isn't helping. He's started screaming something about a Dementor climbing the stairs. I shake some sense into myself and notice that this thing, whatever it is, has started to head towards us. No, towards _me._ It's not paying any attention to Alex whatsoever.  
It's the same guy as earlier, I'm sure of it. What the hell has this guy got against me! I'm racking my brains trying to remember if I'd pissed anybody off in the last few weeks. Well my friend Kate and I had a row last week, but not bad enough for her to call in a bloody hit man! In no time at all it's reached the upstairs landing. I try to get a better look under its hood but I can't see anything; just darkness obscuring where I presume its features to be. Alex attempts a heroic lunge, snatches what's left of the vodka bottle out of my hand and swipes at the figure frantically. The figure lifts an enormous hand and, with one easy thump, Alex is knocked halfway across the landing and into the wall behind us. The crunch from the blow tells me that he's out cold and I see the bottle roll out of his limp hand from the corner of my eye. My brain is telling me that I should be running away now; I should be sprinting out the hole where my front door used to be and into the street, screaming for help. But something else is telling me that nobody would come for help. There is nothing that can help me now.

I back away, slowly staring into the darkness that's looming down on me. Strange thing is I'm not frightened at all. I'm almost in awe as I wonder what on earth this creature is doing in my house. I'm filled with curiosity and burning with questions I want to ask. The figure catches me by surprise and extends a long arm towards me. It clamps ice cold fingers around the side of my face, just as the strange man in the tweed jacket did in the café. Instead of being terrified that this thing is about to tear me apart, my mind starts piecing things together. Does the tweed guy know this creature?

The creature's fingers are pressing into my temple and all of a sudden a terrible pain shoots through my forehead. I cry out and try to raise my hands to my head. The creature grabs them quickly in one bony hand and forces them away. The pain is bewildering; it almost feels as though its fingers are going to burst straight through my skull and into my brain. My vision blurs and twists in front of me and I feel myself falling to my knees. It's only now that panic starts to grip me. My heart is going so crazy in my chest, my ribs feel as though they're going to break. I'd try to fight this thing off but I've left it too late. I can't fight now, I can't even move.

Bursts of colour flash in front of my eyes; memories of the previous weeks race past me. I watch myself walking too and from work, going out drinking with old school friends, watching DVD's with Alex, standing at my Mother and Sisters grave whilst my dad sobs in front of them, and the tweed man in the café placing his hands either side of my face. His soft voice echoes through my mind. '_I'm not going to hurt you.' _And all of a sudden I believe him.

There's another flash of pain and all of a sudden, different images are rushing through my head, ones that I don't recognise. A strange blue police box; a whirring consol and strange machinery inside; the tweed jacket guy dancing around it, 'This is the TARDIS' he says, flicking levers and buttons; my house, crumbled and alight with flames; a flash of blue light -

I don't get to see anymore as the creature is ripped from me and I slump heavily to the ground. All the energy I had left leaves me quickly and I can feel my arms shaking madly beneath my body. There's a feral cry and I manage to keep my eyes open long enough to see a man standing beside the creature in black, shining some kind of torch in its face. He glances over his shoulder at me and I see the familiar bow tie and tweed jacket before my body gives in and my eyes slip shut. He looked worried. I guess I should probably be worried too.


	5. Breakfast

**Chapter four**

_Breakfast_

The morning light shines through my curtains, waking me gently. I groan and pull my bed covers further over my head, not wanting to get up just yet. I don't want to spend another day in that office trying to sell life insurance to people who are just going to hang up on me after five minutes. I crack one up eye open, surprised that my alarm hasn't gone off yet. God, my head hurts. There's a dull pain that shoots through my forehead as I try to push myself up right.  
And then I remember.

That creature breaking down my front door, attacking me and Alex and the tweed jacket guy turning up just in the nick of time…_again_. That's the second time he's saved my life. Maybe he's not a murderer after all…

There seems to be a lot of noise coming from my kitchen downstairs. Odd thuds and clangs and the sound of somebody being very heavy handed with my crockery. I throw the bed sheets off and run out onto the landing. My head spins dramatically and I clutch onto the banister for a few moments. The banging stops. I think I can smell bacon? Well it can't be Alex downstairs; he's never cooked anything in his life.

'Are you alright?'

I open my eyes again and let go of the banister. The tweed jacket guy is stood at the bottom of the stairs wearing the frilly apron I brought Alex as a joke and holding a spatula in one hand.

'You're cooking,' I say, stunned.

'Yes, I am!' he says happily and he dashes back into the kitchen.

I make my way down the stairs, slowly, and follow him. I notice that my front door has been reattached – though rather haphazardly. The kitchen is a complete mess; it looks as though a bomb has hit it. There are plates and bowls everywhere, each full of a different kind of breakfast combination and others…well, there's a bowl of custard in the middle of the table with what I think are fish fingers poking out of it. There's several cups on the side, filled with coffee, tea, water, orange juice and I think the last one is a mixture of all four.

'You don't do this very often, do you,' I say, failing to hide my bemused grin.

He pulls a chair out for me and ushers me into it. As I sit down, my head is hit with another bout of vertigo. There's a flash of an image in my mind – it's the same one I saw last night when that creature was attached to my face. My house is in flames, crumbling to the ground. I give my head a quick shake and find tweed guy sat in a chair beside me, frowning curiously.

'Where's Alex?' I ask, trying to make him look away. God, his gaze is so intense.

'Sleeping,' he says casually. 'He took quite a blow to the head.'

'I'm sorry,' I say, leaning forward. 'Why are you in my house? Cooking…breakfast?'

'I needed to make sure they didn't come back.'

'And who are they?'

'They're known as Clones,' he says, like it's a totally normal conversation. 'They're grown from cells, created in a laboratory usually, generally used as slaves or soldiers. These guys, however, didn't quite turn out right. I've never seen such a bad batch of home grown clones.' He smiles to himself. 'Home grown clones, hah, anyway, there's somebody messing around and growing cells that really doesn't know what they're doing.'

'What like the government?'

'Aliens.'

I can't think of an appropriate reaction so I just stare back at him. His face is completely serious. I check over my shoulder - I'm sure a hidden camera crew are going to burst out any moment.

'…aliens.'

'Yes, aliens, like me.'

'…like you…'

'Yes, alright with that?'

'Sure,' I say sarcastically. 'Why the hell not?' This is just getting weirder and weirder by the second. My brain desperately wants to believe him. Why wouldn't it? It's fantastic and exciting and terribly dangerous all at once –it's everything you dream of when you're playing make-believe in the playground at school. He seems so deadly serious and whatever the hell that thing was in my house last night…it certainly wasn't human. Plus, I'm far too intrigued to stop the conversation now.  
'So that thing, last night, that was an alien?'

'An alien clone, yes. A really rubbish one.'

'What did you do with it?'

'Destroyed it,' he says. 'Doesn't take much, doesn't hurt them, they're barely functional.'

'Well it was functional enough to break my front door off, swat my friend halfway across the room and play with my brain.'

'Yeah…speaking of that.' Tweed guy jumps to his feet. His eyes are calculating me, flicking from my right eye to my left and back again in record time. He squints and pulls a strange pen torch hybrid thing out of his pocket.

'Look at me?' he says, flashing it in my eyes. He flicks it open and it gives off a strange buzzing sound. He looks confused for a moment. 'Can I?' He reaches forward for my face again. I back off instinctively. 'I'm not going to hurt you,' he says.

'I know, you've done the whole grabbing face thing before,' I say.

'I was looking for disruptions in your brain patterns,' he says firmly. 'I wasn't 'grabbing your face.'' He gives an odd grimace.

'Oh so you remember now? You didn't have a clue what I was talking about in the street yesterday.'

'No, well, it's complicated,' he says. 'Everything has gone a bit wibbly wobbly.' He waves his hand dismissively. 'Timey, wimey.'

'Explain, please,' I demand.

He takes a breath. 'The first time I met you, Sophie, was the second time you met me. You had an unfortunate encounter with one those clones and we had an interesting conversation about murder and stalking as I recall – not unusual for me if I'm honest, happens far too often for my liking – and I love a mystery, which meant of course I had to go back in time and meet you. You told me we met in the café down the street so naturally that's the first place I went.'

'Back in time?' I don't know why I say that. I don't actually believe this to be as strange as it sounds. When we met in the street yesterday, he really didn't seem to have any recollection of me at all…but time travel was impossible, right?

'I'm a time traveller,' he says.

I stand corrected.

'A time traveller?' I must have a sneer on my face because tweed guy looks slightly abashed and he fiddles with his bow tie for a few seconds. 'Yes, a time traveller,' he says irritably. 'Why does everyone always find that so hard to believe?' He holds a finger up as if to interrupt himself. 'I should probably also mention that I travel through space too.' He leans forward again. 'Now, can I please finish checking your brain?'

I'm too bewildered to object so I let him place his hands either side of my face again. Instead of staring at me like he did last time, he closes his eyes, entirely focused on whatever the hell it is he's doing. I can feel a strange energy pulsing from the end of his fingertips and through the skin at my temples.

'What are you looking for?' I ask him. 'The same as last time?'

He nods. 'Distortions in brain patterns, traces of any scans or anything that's been placed in your mind or looks abnormal.'

'And is there anything?'

He lets go of my face and sits back in his chair again, frowning. 'I'm not sure,' he says quietly. 'There's something I can't quite put my finger on…but I know it's there. I just don't know what it is.'

'Did these clone things do it to me?'

He shakes his head. 'I don't think so. Did anything happen when it attacked you last night?'

'Sort of,' I say, not quite sure what to tell him. 'I think it looked through my memories…and then I think it showed me some of its own. I saw things I didn't recognise.'

'Clones don't have memories,' tweed guy tells me. 'It may have been dragging up things from your subconscious and feeding it back to you.' He taps his fingers against his forehead. 'I really don't understand why they came looking for you. And not once, but_ twice_… Are you sure that nothing strange has happened recently? No black outs, no blank periods of time, data disappearing from computers or mobiles, no strange encounters, excluding last nights of course…anything at all?'

I sit up straighter in my chair. 'All the data on my computer at work was wiped yesterday,' I tell him. 'And the sales pitch I'd been working on for the past two weeks.'

He leaps up from his chair all of a sudden, taking me completely by surprise.

'That confirms one thing at least,' he says, pulling my chair out and hauling me onto my feet.

'What?' I say as he begins to drag me out of the kitchen.

His tone turns deadly serious. 'That they're definitely after you in particular, Sophie Castle.' He pushed me onto the first step of my staircase. 'Get dressed, we're going out.'

'Hang on! Why do they want me?'

'That's what we're going to find out!'


	6. Investigating

**Chapter five**

_Investigating _

'You know what,' I say as we're walking down the street together. I say walking…this guy has a ridiculously huge stride length so I'm pretty much jogging to keep up with him. 'You haven't even told me your name.'

'It's The Doctor,' he says distractedly. He's fiddling with his weird torch/pen hybrid thing again.

'Doctor what?'

'No, just The Doctor.'

I frown. 'That's a bit egotistical isn't it? Or your parents were really mean…' He points the pen/torch at me suddenly. 'Why are you pointing that thing at me?' I demand.

'It's not a 'thing', it's a sonic screwdriver.'

'Okay,' I say. 'So why the hell are you pointing a screwdriver in my face?'

'You're giving off a funny signal. You're making my screwdriver go all…wonky.'

'_Wonky_?'

'Yes, wonky. Where's your office?'

His sudden change in topic catches my completely by surprise. 'Work?' I say, confused. 'Why the hell do we want to go there? I sell insurance, there's hardly going to be aliens hanging around.'

'You said your computer was wiped,' he says.

'Oh yeah! Well, we could walk there but that will take ages. We need to get on the bus.'

He pulls a ridiculous expression, like he's just stepped in dog shit. 'A bus,' he groans.

'Well, unless you have a spaceship or something lying around we haven't got any other choice.'

He beams suddenly and grabs my hand, pulling me along the road.

'Shut up,' I say. 'You don't _actually_ have a spaceship!'

'How else do you think I travel through time and space!'

'I didn't really believe you!'

We sprint around a corner and there, tucked away behind the bins of the local kebab shop is a huge, blue police box. I come to a halt and the Doctor's hand slips out of mine. My head gives a painful spin and the image of the police box bursts into my mind. It's exactly as I saw it when that clone attached itself to my head.

'This it the – '

'TARDIS,' I whisper. The Doctor spins around quickly.

'How did you know that?' he demands, marching straight up towards me, forehead wrinkled into a deep but curious frown.

'I've seen it before,' I say, stepping past him and running my hands along the jagged wood of the doors. 'That clone showed me.'

'Impossible,' the Doctor says firmly, shaking his head. 'Clones don't have memories.'

'It's bigger on the inside,' I say, wanting him to believe me.

He doesn't say anything. He just stares at me and then gently pushes one of the doors open. I recognise it instantly of course. The consol is in the centre of the room, throbbing with life and power. This thing is _huge_! How the hell is this even possible? I'm pretty sure that police box was small enough for me to put my arms around but I could do cartwheels across this room if I wanted to. I shake off the million questions thundering around my head and turn to the Doctor.

'How does it work then?' I ask, giddy with excitement.  
He's still staring at me, that same intense gaze he's fixed me with at least three times since we've met. He snaps out of it suddenly, runs forward into the TARDIS and begins hurtling himself around the consol. His head is down and his arms are firing in what seems like hundreds of different directions, slamming buttons and pulling leavers. He's concentrating on a million different things but I can see his eyes flickering over to the other side of the room, watching me. The doors slam shut behind us making me jump. Now, I'm not an expert at flying a spaceship but I'm pretty sure we shouldn't be flung all over the place - I can barely keep hold of the railing I've attached myself too. The Doctor is leaping around his controls again, stumbling and skidding sideways. Several sparks burst out the top of the consol and the Doctor staggers backwards looking surprised.

'What's the matter with you!' he snaps, giving one of the levers a particularly hard wrench.

'Why are you talking to it?' I ask. The TARDIS gives another jolt and I momentarily let go of my railing. The next moment I've crashed straight into the Doctor. He catches me, spins me round quickly and guides my hand back to the consol.

'Hold this down,' he instructs me, gesturing aimlessly to a selection of buttons. 'Not until I tell you.'

'Hold what down?' I ask him, panicking.

'The red button!'

'THERE'S TWO RED BUTTONS.'

He's round the other side of the consol now, clinging onto a lever that looks suspiciously like a hammer.

'Pick one then!' He pokes his head around the corner. 'Just don't pick the wrong one…'

'What happens if I pick the wrong one?'

'Nothing really…there's a small chance the universe could combust.'

'That's nothing?' I snap. I look between the two buttons. They're exactly the same. I have absolutely no idea what he expects me to do.

'NOW SOPHIE!' he cries suddenly.  
I do a quick verse of 'ip dip sky blue' in my head and slam my hand down on the left button. The TARDIS gives a loud whirr, crunks and then seems to speed up at all once.

'Hold on!' The Doctor cries.

I clutch hold of the railing again as the TARDIS slams into what I hope is the ground. I fall forwards, smacking my head painfully against the metal bar. An impressive plume of smoke shoots out of the top of the consol, several sparks follow and finally the TARDIS comes to a shaky, sudden halt.

I prod my forehead cautiously; I'm going to have a nice lump there later.

'What was all that about?' I ask, shaken.

'I don't know,' The Doctor answers. He's pulling a television screen out from its bracket and peering at it intently. 'The TARDIS had her own ideas and decided to bring us here!' He gives the screen a sharp prod with his finger 'You are not the boss of me,' The Doctor is saying, slamming his hand down on the consol. A single spark jolts through his finger and he lets go instantly, yelping.

'Fine!' he yells. 'But if this all turns out to be a disaster – I'm blaming you!'

He gives the TARDIS consol one last scowl and runs forward, slinging open the doors. I run forward to join him.

'Holy crap, how did we get here?' I ask.  
We're in my office at work. Just parked slap bang right in the middle of the office. My co-workers are wandering around the police box like they can't even see it. The Doctor is frowning again, watching the scene intently.

'This explains the bumpy landing,' he says, nodding towards the door. 'Potential paradox.'

I'm about to ask what the hell he's talking about when my voice suddenly catches in my throat. _I've _just walked through the door the Doctor was nodding at. Or rather, me from yesterday. I'm late, of course, so I'm flustered, there's a beautiful ladder in my tights and trying to sneak towards my desk so nobody sees me. This is so weird. I kind of want to run over and give myself a hug. I step forwards slightly but the Doctor immediately places his hand on my arm.

'If you touch yourself, or even speak to yourself you'll cause a huge paradox. We're just here to watch.'

'What's a paradox?' I ask. I change my mind quickly. 'No wait, don't bother telling me. I won't understand.' I watch myself sit down at my desk. I look awful; so sad and tired, like I've got the weight of the world on my shoulders. I shift awkwardly next to the Doctor, hoping to god I don't look that terrible right now.

'Why did the TARDIS bring us here?' I ask.

'There's obviously something that we need to see,' he tells me.

'Speaking of that…why isn't anyone freaking out that a massive box just appeared in the room?'

'Perception filter,' he says as though this explains everything. 'I fitted one when the chameleon curtain broke and it became stuck as a police box. I was drawing too much attention to myself.'

I'm deciding whether to ignore him or ask him what he's talking about when suddenly, there's an odd fluorescent flash of blue light. It blinds me for a second and I throw my hand up to my eyes, wondering what the hell is going on.

Everyone in the office has frozen – they're all completely still. Even yesterday me sat at my desk, my hands poised and ready to type.  
'This didn't happen yesterday,' I whisper to the Doctor.

'Yes it did,' The Doctor whispers back. 'This _is_ yesterday, so it did happen.'

I've started to lose hope of any sentence making sense again.

'But I don't remember it,' I say.

'No – you wouldn't,' he replies, pulling out his sonic screwdriver. He flicks it open and studies it for a while. 'The light holds a basic telepathic field. Not enough to control your thoughts or actions, but enough to render you completely defenceless and make you forget anything that happened whilst it's doing its job.'

'And what is its job?' I ask.

'Scanning you,' The Doctor says, gesturing to my motionless body.  
The blue light is entirely focused on me. It's pulsing in waves and tendrils, wrapping around my body, totally surrounding me. I watch, completely entranced.

'Your computer was an accidental victim,' The Doctor says. 'Of course they wouldn't bother wiping the data off a computer that belongs to someone who works in sales. There'd be absolutely nothing worthwhile on there– no offence.'

'None taken.'

The Doctor pulls open his sonic screwdriver and points it at me again. 'The signals match,' he tells me. 'That's what's making my screwdriver go wonky – these scans they've carried out on you have left residual energy hanging around. And by the looks of it, they've been scanning you for quite a while.'

A shudder creeps up my back. I can't seem to get my head around the fact that these Clone things have been scanning me without me noticing.

'How long is quite a while,' I ask, dreading the answer.

'At a guess,' he gives a nonchalant shrug. 'Periodically since you were born.'

'Since I was born?' I say, totally shocked. 'Why would they do that? What are they waiting for? If they want to kill me, why don't they just do it now?'

The Doctor is shaking his head. 'I don't think they want to kill you,' he says. 'They could have done that easily the night one cornered you in that alleyway. No…they want you for something.' He turns and stares at me for a moment. 'There's something about you that is important enough for Alien Clones to come after you.'

The blue light disappears with an odd whizzing sound and everybody starts moving around again. Nobody noticed anything. There's life out there in the world that can freeze humans when they want – kind of makes me think of Sims – and makes me want to run away and hide forever. Nobody should be allowed that kind of power.

The Doctor is saying something else now; I think he's wandered back into the TARDIS as I can hear the pushing of buttons and the pushing of levers. He's still talking but my brain has decided to completely zone out. His voice becomes blurred and distant, my eyes become unfocused and everything goes dark. I feel like I should be panicking but I can sense a reason behind this. This isn't alien technology scanning my brain – this is my brain wanting to tell me something. Something important.

The brightest image slams into the centre of my mind, consuming my thoughts, consuming everything until it is the only thing I can see. My house again, burning and bright and crumbling to the ground in flames; the roof caving in and Alex's batman pyjamas strewn across the floor. I can see people gathered around outside crying; people wrapped in blankets; an ambulance pulling up; and the Doctor and I hidden within the crowd. He's clinging onto me, stopping me from running inside. And I'm screaming. I'm screaming for Alex…

'Sophie!'

My eyes snap back into focus and I find myself staring straight into the Doctor's. His face is hovering inches from my own. He's got that intense look in his eyes again and the familiar frown on his forehead. Somehow I've managed to slip onto the floor and I'm lying propped up against one of the railings. I can feel my entire body shaking violently beneath me. My breathing is coming in tiny little breaths; my lungs feel as though they've shrunk to the size of a pea.

'Easy,' the Doctor says gently. 'Breathe slowly.'

I shake my head at him. There's no time for that.  
'Alex,' I manage to grind out. 'He's in danger.'


	7. No place like home

**Chapter six**

_No place like home_

It takes several seconds for my brain to sit itself firmly back down in my skull. I'm still reeling slightly from what I've just seen. I take a few slow, deep breaths. Alex is going to be fine. My house isn't burning to the ground. What I saw was a memory – from the Clone or something. Yes, that has to be it.

But the Doctor says Clone's don't have memories.  
So the memory had to be mine. Or perhaps it wasn't a memory at all – just an over active imagination? That's probably more plausible. All this excitement with the Doctor has got my brain working tenfold and now I'm making up impossible futures.  
I hope that's true. Otherwise I'm seriously going to lose it.

The Doctor is already taking us back to my house. He's been throwing levers for a few seconds, clinging on to a railing for another few whilst we travelled through space or time or whatever the hell it is you travel through in this thing. I haven't missed the looks he's been throwing at me though. I'd have to be an idiot.  
And I have a very strong feeling he knows what's going on.

I drag myself onto my feet just as the TARDIS comes to a halt and I make a shaky sprint for the doors. The Doctor is right behind me; he's parked neatly in my front garden. Squashed mine and Alex's makeshift vegetable patch but I expect he did them a favour – put the poor vegetables out of their misery. My house isn't on fire… It's not crumbling to the ground. There's no crowd of people, no ambulance. I breathe a massive sigh of relief but I march into my house anyway, calling for Alex. I'm not going to be satisfied until I know he's safe.

'What are you screaming about?' a voice calls from the landing upstairs. I look up and find Alex stood in his boxers. He's obviously just pulled himself out of bed. I smile despite myself. If anything happened to him, I really don't know what I'd do.

'Put some clothes on,' I tell him. 'We've got a visitor.'

'So this is where you've been,' Alex says, ten minutes later, once he's dressed. We are sat in the lounge together. The Doctor is holding a cup of tea very awkwardly. Alex is holding a bag of peas on the side of his head and I'm perched on the edge of the sofa wondering how on earth we're going to explain things to him. Maybe he hit his head hard enough to forget what happened last night.

'Gallivanting off with a strange man,' he carries on, winking. He then turns deadly serious. 'Is anybody going to explain to me what the hell went on last night?'

Damn.

'Who is this guy? Do you know him?'

'No – kind of. This is the Doctor,' I say.

Alex looks totally bewildered. 'The Doctor? Why is there a Doctor in our house? I've only got a bump on my head. Nothing a bag of peas can't fix.'

'Not a Doctor, _the_ Doctor,' the Doctor answers. 'It's my name. And that wasn't just a bump on your head – took me about twenty minutes to get you coherent enough to move.'

Alex's eyebrow is raised so high it looks as though it's going to disappear into his hair. 'Right,' he says. 'Is this the stalker?'

I nod.

'Thought so.'

'I'm not a stalker!' the Doctor says.

'But you followed her, twice,' Alex says. I see him reach for his peas again. I'm not sure they're going to make the most effective weapon. 'And just happened to turn up last night.'

'After meeting Sophie in the café and in the street I was pretty sure that these Clones were going to turn up again.'

Alex laughs loudly. 'Clones?' he says. 'And just what would these 'Clones' want with Sophie exactly?'

'It was trying to find out everything it could about her from her memories. I'm not sure how much information it could gather from the short time it was attacking you. That's what the one in the street was trying to do yesterday before I turned up. They've been scanning you for a while, you know that already, but sometimes the most accurate way to gather information is to just dive straight in there.'

'You're insane,' Alex is saying, brow pulled into a deep line. Okay, he's worried. He's actually frowning. He hates frowning because it gives you wrinkles. The last time he frowned for a long period (the boiler man was three hours late) he spent the rest of the afternoon trying to smooth the skin flat on his forehead.

'I know it's a lot to take in,' The Doctor replies.

'A lot to take in?' Alex shouts. 'A weird bloke in a morph suit breaks into our house, tries to kill us and then a nutter turns up afterwards talking about Clones and scanning and god knows what.'

'It wasn't a man in a morph suit, whatever that is,' The Doctor says, exasperated.

'Look - the most important thing is that we make sure these Clones don't get their hands on Sophie.'

'If this is all true, why do you even care?' Alex spits. 'You don't know her! You have no idea who she is. You've met _twice_!'

The Doctor's face has suddenly taken on a dark look; his eyes have become stormy and his voice is low and tight.

'Because aliens have come looking for her. That doesn't just happen. That never happens and it is going to have massive consequences. That's why I care.'

'_Aliens_?' Alex mocks. 'God, this is getting better and better.'

He starts towards the Doctor and for a moment I'm terrified he's going to hit him. Then I remember Alex can't fight to save his life and instead he takes him by the arm and begins to drag him towards the front door.

'Alex!' I shout, following them into the hallway. 'Alex, don't be ridiculous, you can't just throw him out!'

'Yes I can!' Alex says, struggling to push the Doctor backwards. 'What!' he says, catching my expression. 'You can't possibly believe what this guy is saying?'

'I've seen it, Alex,' I tell him. Alex stops struggling and lets go of the Doctor instantly. 'I've been in his spaceship, it's called the TARDIS, and I've travelled back in time to yesterday and seen myself. I've seen these aliens trying to scan me. It's real. I promise you.'

Alex stares at me for a few moments. 'Has he drugged you or something?'

And then the roof caves in.

Just like that. Out of nowhere. It literally just collapses in front of me. I'm way too shocked to move out of the way so I just stand and watch as an enormous cloud of dust, concrete and furniture from the upstairs bedroom come falling through the ceiling. I watch in horror as Alex's bed and wardrobe slide through the gap and topple beside my feet.  
I can hear two voices calling my name and suddenly both Alex and the Doctor are clambering over the pile of debris towards me. I know I must look like a deer caught in headlights but Alex's expression is even more hilarious. Well, it would be if my house hadn't just fallen apart on top of me. His eyes are so wide they look as they they're going to disappear into his hairline. He's clutching the Doctor's arm for support and has a nasty looking scrape across his shoulder.

I'm just stood, staring at them both and Alex's Spiderman pyjamas that are now strewn across the hallway.

'What's going on?' Alex says.

'Oh my god, it was real,' I whisper. My hands are shaking by my side. My breaths are almost overwhelming me. I turn to look at the Doctor but he seems almost as shocked as I am. 'How can this be real,' I ask him. 'I thought it was a memory …or, or just something I imagined.'

'What's real?' Alex demands.

'What happens next?' The Doctor demands. 'Did you see what happens next?'

I close my eyes briefly and see a flash of an image…something I can't quite make out. There's an intense pressure, something exploding and fire…lots of fire. I open my eyes again.

'An explosion,' I say, shakily. The Doctor understands immediately and grabs hold of my hand.

'Will somebody please tell me what the hell is going on!' Alex shouts.

'No time!' The Doctor replies, practically dragging me back through the sitting room and towards the back door.

'Where are we going?' Alex asks.

'As far away from here as possible!'

He takes my wrist and pulls me through the kitchen; Alex is hot on our heels. The Doctor's hand just settles on the door handle when suddenly I feel myself pulled from his grasp. A millisecond later, the entire house seems to be engulfed in a white, burning hot fireball, like someone has just dropped the sun on the remains of our roof. It sweeps quickly through the downstairs of the house, the pressure exploding the windows and shooting deadly shards of glass in every direction. It feels as though my flesh is going to melt off my bones as I'm thrown backwards into the kitchen wall; I can feel tiny pieces of glass tearing at my arms and face. My head collides hard with the door frame and everything around me starts to spin. Holy crap that hurt. I clutch the back of my head and feel something wet dripping down my neck. I don't need to look at my hand to know that it's blood. I watch blearily as the fire curls around the stairs, consuming everything in a thick black fog. I can barely see in front of my nose and my ears are ringing so loudly I can't even hear my own voice as I start calling out for Alex. I try to stand up but my legs don't want to obey me. I fall back to the ground, feeling completely drunk again, like I've just got in from a night of downing rum and cokes or vodka shots.

A pair of hands pulls me roughly to my feet and gives me a small but firm shake. He's pretty much holding me upright and I drag my eyes up to look at the Doctor. He's shouting something at me. It looks urgent but I can't make out any of the words. I'm trying desperately not to loose my head at the moment. He takes off his tweed jacket and throws it over our heads, pulling me tight into his chest. I try to pull away, I need to find Alex but the Doctor has an almost painfully tight hold on me.  
I'm looking around desperately when my hearing comes back with such a painful snap that I physically shove my hands over my ears. I'm pretty sure I've just let out a girly cry as the Doctor turns to me looking startled. My ears latch onto the sound of the room giving a chilling creak and I snap my head up to look at the ceiling. Bad idea, now there are about six ceilings swimming around in front of my eyes. There's a thundering roar and once more the floor above begins to give way. The Doctor tugs me against the back wall, attempting to shield us from the pile of splintering wood and lumps of plaster that come firing towards us. The back door has almost been flattened and the Doctor takes his chance, dragging me with him as we run past the flames still raging viciously around us. We emerge onto the street, coughing and spluttering furiously.

'ALEX!' I scream between coughs and gasps. 'ALEX!' I try to run forwards back into the kitchen but the Doctor grabs me around the waist.

'No!' he says gruffly, pulling me back. 'You can't go back in there!'

I turn and shove him hard in the chest. 'We can't just leave him in there!' I wail. Now the tears decide to hit me. I'm sobbing like a complete baby as I watch my mother's house burn and crumble to the floor. All my childhood memories seem to fall with it. And my best friend who'd been my rock for the past year… I can't bare to think about it. I turn away, screaming into the street, watching distantly as my neighbours begin to file out in their dressing gowns, pointing and gasping in horror. I don't blame them. It's a pretty impressive sight. The whole house, well what's left of it, is completely alight. It's shining a brilliant orange against the backdrop of the night sky.

I sink to my knees on the pavement, crying into my hands, desperately wishing for all of this to just disappear. I haven't cried since I was 14 years old and my pet cat, Smuffy, died after being hit by a car. I don't cry. I'm not a crier. I didn't even cry when my mother and sister died… and this, in comparison, is nothing compared to loosing them. I hear an ambulance pull up – just as it did in my daydream or whatever the hell it was I saw earlier.

'What's wrong with me?' I scream at the Doctor. I'm almost clinging onto him now. I'm terrified to let go of him. He's the only thing here at the moment keeping me anchored to reality. If I let go of him, everything will fall apart. 'What's going on with me? You know! I know you do!'

The Doctor doesn't say anything. He holds on to me and begins to drag me down the street away from the flames. I don't bother turning back to look at the remains of my house.

Alex isn't coming out of that house. And it was a miracle we made it out alive.


	8. Wonky

**Chapter seven**

_Wonky_

My whole body hurts.  
I'm pretty sure even my brain hurts. I don't think I've ever felt this numb in my whole life. I've now lost three of the most important people in my life. I never understood why this happens to good people. Well, I like to think of myself as good. I helped an old lady up yesterday, didn't I? I don't steal from people, I'm not racist, I was never a bully…  
Sometimes the world just doesn't make any sense at all. Best not to think too hard about that right now, otherwise what's left of my sanity will just collapse into a messy pool of crazy. I swallow back the lump in my throat, determined not to cry again. I can feel that familiar sense of detachment that I felt the night my mother and sister died. I hate it and yet I've come to rely upon it for the past year. It's my anchor and I'm not going to let it go.  
I'm sat with my knees up against my chest in one of the booths at the café where I first encountered the Doctor. It was locked, seeing as it's about four in the morning, but he managed to get the door open with his sonic screwdriver thing. He wanted to go to the TARDIS but I said if I see one more weird, non –human, thing right now I'm going to lose it, so he brought me here instead. Which was nice of him I suppose. At least he's letting me collect my bearings.  
He's leaping around frantically by the doors, waving it at every lock and bolt he could find.

'Good job these aren't wood,' he says to himself, giving the doors one final rattle before, satisfied they aren't to burst open, moving to sit opposite me.

'Look at me,' he says, flicking open his sonic screwdriver.

I squint into the light flashing in my eyes and then bat it away irritably.

'You're still concuss,' the Doctor says, running a hand round the back of his head.

His face is black from the smoke, his jacket ripped and torn and there are an impressive set of cuts and bruises forming on his face. I, on the other hand, wouldn't have looked much worse if the entire house had collapsed on me. I can see my reflection in the glass window; a jagged cut runs the length of my cheek, one eye is almost entirely purple and my bare arms have suffered the brunt of the burns. I'm also missing a shoe…not entirely sure how that happened.

The Doctor is sat very awkwardly on the other side of the table. He keeps opening and closing his mouth. I'm content with staring over his shoulder into the glass of the window, taking in my dreadful appearance. It's easier to keep my mind occupied with mundane things. Maybe if I don't think about what's going on right now…maybe it won't be real.

'Sophie, I –'

'Was that them?' I cut him off. 'The Clones? Did they destroy my house?'

'It was whoever created them,' The Doctor says.

'Why did they do that?' I ask distantly. 'I'm not any threat to them.'

'No, but I am,' he says. 'Destroying your house was never meant to kill _you_ – it was meant for me and for Alex…'

I glare at him darkly. 'Well they succeeded with that.' I close my eyes again. Don't think about it, don't think about it. I blow out a shaky breath.

'So why do they want me?' I ask.

He looks at me silently for a few moments.

'No, no way. You don't get to do that,' I tell him firmly. 'You don't get to leave me in the dark about things. My best friend has just _died_, my house has been destroyed, I'm seeing things in my mind that come true and I've found out that Alien Clones have been scanning my brain since I was born. You don't get to treat me like an idiot. Tell me what you know.'

'I've never seen this before,' The Doctor starts gently. 'I've travelled to so many galaxies, so many planets, through so many different times and I've never seen anybody who can do what you can do. You're one of a kind. And you're important enough to come looking for.'

'What is it that I can do, Doctor?'

He leans forward across the table towards me.

'I'm a Time Lord, that's my race,' he says. 'I can see throughout all time, what could be, what might be, what should be…but never what _is_. Time is in a constant state of flux – it changes all the time. But you, I think you have the gift to see what is just around the corner, whether you want to or not. You can see things that are to come; important things, fixed events in time that even I can't see. And that makes you a very valuable possession.'

I'm stunned into silence for a few moments. Yesterday I couldn't even remember to buy milk from the shop and now, all of a sudden, I can see into the future. I can't get my head around that and, for a moment, I'm terrified of my own brain. What else could it show me? What other horrors could pop up into my head that I'm unable to change.

'When did you realise this?' I ask him.

'The moment you told me the TARDIS was bigger on the inside.'

'I don't understand. Why am I like this?' I ask him. The question takes him by surprise.

'Like what?'

I gesture to my head. 'Wonky,' I say. 'Seeing things before they actually happen – and why has it chosen _now_ to make an appearance? I've never been able to do it before; otherwise I would have used it to pick the right lottery numbers.'

He smiles gently at me. 'I honestly don't know,' he says. 'But I can make a guess…This power or whatever it is has been lying dormant in your brain since you were born. That Clone must have activated something in your brain when it tried to read your memories. It must have given it the spark it needed.'

'But I am human, right? One hundred percent?'

'One hundred percent…which is what makes this even stranger.'

'Okay, next question,' I say. 'Why are they trying to kill _you_?'

'I'm getting in the way,' The Doctor says simply. 'If they want access to you in the future, I can't be hanging around making it difficult for them.'

'In the future?' I ask, confused. 'Why don't they just come and get me now?'

'You're not ready yet,' he says. 'You're too full of emotions and human stuff for them to use you now.' He looks at me sadly for a few moments. 'You've lost someone recently…'

'What's Alex got to do with it?'

'I'm not talking about Alex,' he says.  
I almost get up and sprint from the café at that moment but my legs are too tired to work. I'm just staring back at the Doctor blankly. I have no idea how he knows that.  
'I'll bet they've been watching you ever since you were born,' he carries on, 'waiting for the opportune moment to take you away and look inside your brain. I imagine it's so that they can see what you can. Plan for things that are coming – you'd make a brilliant weapon if an army got its hands on you. Just, not yet.'

I try to ignore the part about an army using me as a weapon. 'But I'm always going to be full of emotions and human stuff – because I _am _human.'

The Doctor nods sadly. 'Exactly,' he says. 'And that will be their downfall, I am sure. Underestimating the human race.'

'They're not going to stop coming after me, are they?'

The Doctor fixes me with a calculating look. 'No,' he says quietly. 'They'll continue to scan you and, one day, when they think you're ready, they'll come for you.'

'Then, what are my choices?' I ask. 'I only have one life; I'm not going to let them control it.'

'You can come with me,' The Doctor says. 'We can travel through time and space. I can take you to see amazing things and they'll have a hard time finding you…'

'Run away you mean,' I say.

'Or – we can go and pay them a visit. Find out what they're really up to and what they plan to do with you. Maybe we could even stop them.'

I'm quiet for a few moments, playing this over in my head. I kind of wish an image would pop into my head of what's going to happen; it would be so much easier to make decisions if you already knew the outcome.

'If do the latter,' I say. 'What are the chances that I'm going to end up dead?'

'I won't let that happen,' he says, leaning across the table.

'Swear on something,' I tell him. 'Something important. Swear on your life.'

'That's not important to me,' he says quickly – far too quickly.

'Then swear on mine,' I say. 'Because mine damn well is.'

He's silent for a good minute. He's fighting with himself. I can see his eyes darkening, his jaw tightening. He takes a breath.

'I swear on your life that I'll protect you.'

And I believe him almost instantly.

There's something about him that I trust wholeheartedly. And it's not because he has a spaceship and can travel back and forward through time…

It's because when I look in his eyes I see the same pain mirrored in my own. He's lost people too. He's suffered for a lot longer than I have. And yet he's still willing to risk everything to keep me safe; a total stranger from the south of England. I must be nothing compared to him, compared to what he's seen and done in the past.

And yet here I am. Under the Doctors protection.


	9. Paying a visit

**Chapter eight **

_Paying a visit_

'How do we do this then?' I ask. I'm eager to get started but, as I start to think back on it, how easy is it going to be to talk to an alien race who wants me for my brain? Can you reason with people who are willing to blow up a house to get you? I suppose I should be flattered really.

'I'm not sure yet,' The Doctor says.

'Come on,' I snap. 'You're a time lord, you own a space ship. Surely you've got an idea bouncing around in that head of yours. What if I just run outside and wave my arms around until they come and get me? Actually, that's not a bad idea…'

'Sophie,' the Doctor says firmly. I haven't heard him use that tone of voice before. It's slightly unnerving. 'Look, I know you're upset –'

'I'm not upset,' I say, frowning. 'There's nothing to be upset about. I am angry, Doctor. I am unbelievably angry right now and I think that I have every right to be.'

'I know and of course you do, of course you're allowed to be angry. But do not let your anger cloud your judgement. People tend to act irrationally when they're fuelled by anger.'

'Humans, you mean.'

'Not just humans,' he says. 'We've all done things we're not proud of.' He takes a calming breath. 'This is important,' he says. 'If we do this wrong you could end up dead, or worse.' He sits back in his chair and stares me out, waiting for me to speak.

'I'm not going to let them take my life from me,' I say eventually. 'I'm in control of my own destiny. There's nobody to fight my battles anymore…it's about time I learnt to fight them alone.'

'You don't need to be alone,' The Doctor tells me. 'Just because you feel as though you're all alone in the world, it doesn't mean that you are. I just swore to protect you and I will do everything in my power to make sure you're safe, but I can't do that if you're letting your heart control your head.'

He's making sense - I'm the one sounding like a total idiot. I've never wanted to fight any battle alone. I've always believed that two hands are stronger than one…and here I am talking nonsense about learning to fight alone? It's time to get my head in gear. Alex may be dead, my mother and sister may be dead but I am not. I am one hundred percent alive and one hundred percent human. I will not let aliens dictate my life to me and if I need the Doctor's help to do this, then so be it. I will not let my emotions control my actions. I look over at him and give him a quick nod.

'You're right,' I say. 'Of course you're right. I'm an idiot.'

The Doctor manages a small laugh. 'You're not an idiot,' he says. 'You're grieving. It affects us all in different ways.'

'After Alex's brother died in Afghanistan, he watched Saving Private Ryan twice a day for a month until I shredded the DVD.'

'Oh that's a great movie,' The Doctor says. 'Not exactly how it happened in real life. And turns out, Ryan wasn't even _there. _He'd already been shipped home!'

'Right,' I say, completely nonplussed. I look over his shoulder towards the window again. 'Uh, Doctor?'

'Then Captain Miller decided to get shot by the Germans – it all got very messy…'

'Doctor!'

'What?'

'We might want to ship_ ourselves_ off somewhere…' I point towards the door. He turns around apprehensively.

'Ah.'

Outside with their hooded faces pressed up against the glass are two Clones. These ones are huge, much bigger than the others. They're still dressed all in black and I still can't make out their faces. I'm growing more and more curious to see what these things actually look like. Apart from the pointy teeth of course – I'm quite happy not getting up close to those. One of them rears back and throws itself against the glass. It shatters instantly and the Clone stumbles through, almost comically. I stifle the totally inappropriate urge to laugh and look at the Doctor.

'Any ideas?' I ask, as they start shoving chairs and tables aside to get to us.

'Only one!' the Doctor shouts. He picks up a chair and launches it at one of the Clones. It swipes it away easily, smashing it into bits against the wall. The Doctor straightens upright.

'Well, I'm all out, what about you?' He turns to me expectantly. Is he serious?

'Uh, run?'

'Let's go with that,' he says, grabbing me by the hand. 'RUN!'

But before we can get even half an inch, that strange fluorescent blue light blurs around the room. I let out the girliest shriek I think I've ever done and throw my arms over my head – like that's going to help. But I haven't frozen on the spot like I did before in my office. I can still move and think and throw my arms around like a mad man. The Doctor however, hasn't got so lucky. He's frozen; the blue light has completely surrounded him, pulsing and flashing and keeping him comically suspended on one foot with one hand reaching towards a table. It would be funny…but it's not because now I'm like a rabbit with two very large lions stalking me. Crap. I always thought when I was caught in a situation like this my brain would come up with a really fantastic, mission impossible style escape plan.  
It hasn't.

There's nothing in there.

'I'm not ready yet!' I blurt out at the Clones who have come to a standstill a couple of feet away from me. They cock their heads to the side as though they're having a hard time computing what I just said.

'Did you hear me?' I say again, stalling for time. 'I'm not ready yet.'

'You are correct,' one of them replies a few seconds later, in the strangest disjointed voice I've ever heard. I can't even make out the sex of these things. Are there male and female Clones?

'Then why are you here?'

'To protect you,' it manages to grind out.

'Sorry?' I splutter.

'The Doctor is a threat. He must be terminated.'

I turn around and look at him. He really doesn't look like very much of a threat right now.

'We will take him to our master.'

'What? No wait!' I shout, trying to grab hold of him. I clasp my hand around his, clutching tightly. 'He's no threat to me, I promise. He's just a friend! You don't need to kill him.'

'The Doctor is a threat. He must be terminated.'

'Are you even listening to me? He's not a threat! He's keeping me safe! He's protecting me.'

'Protecting you from what?' the Clone asks me.

'From you.'

I know instantly that this is the wrong thing to say. The blue light swarms around the Doctor and wraps around him until he's barely visible. In the blink of an eye, there's a bright flash and then, he's gone. He's completely disappeared. I look around frantically, my heart thundering in my chest.

'Where's he gone?' I ask, dreading to hear the answer.

'The Doctor is a threat. He must be terminated.'

'Yes, I bloody well know that!' I shout. 'Where have you taken him?'

'We will take him to our master.'

'God you things like repeating yourselves don't you! You sound like my Nan!'

'We will return for you.'

I place my hand on the chair beside me. 'Not anytime soon you won't!' Using strength I didn't realise I had I pick up the chair and copy the Doctor, launching it at one of the Clones. I know it's probably not going to do anything but the satisfaction of throwing something is great. To my astonishment, the chair catches one of the Clones completely unaware and hits it smack bang in the chest. It falls backwards, smashes it's head on a table behind it and falls into a heap.  
The other Clone turns its head sideways, gives it's comrade a quick glance and then vanishes in the same blue light that took the Doctor. The Clone is consumed by it and then all of a sudden is disappears. I have no idea how that works. I wish I understood more about all this space technology and crap.  
I'm stood in the destroyed café, switching my glance from the darkness outside to the unconscious twitching Clone on the floor. All of that seemed to happen so quickly and I have absolutely no idea what to do next. The Doctor has gone, whoever owns those Clones is probably going to kill him and in a few years, or months perhaps they're going to come back for me.

Well, I can't just let that happen.  
I've got to go and find the Doctor.

I march determinedly towards the door, arms swinging, chest held high.  
And stop again a few seconds later.

How in the hell am I going to find him?


	10. Mission Impossible

**Chapter nine**

_Mission Impossible_

I've always been great at procrastinating. Whenever I had to write essays for college I would spend about six hours wasting time on the internet, reading books, I think I even resorted to colouring in a few times so I wouldn't have to start work. And then I'd sit down at my computer, open up a word document and stare at it for another hour before anything that resembled a coherent sentence entered my brain. It's a curse isn't it? As soon as you want to start working your brain decides that it's had enough for one day and completely shuts down.  
Well, this is what has happened now.  
My brain is being completely and utterly useless. I'm still in the bloody café. I've picked up all the chairs that are still in one piece and placed them back at their respective tables. I even gave the side a wipe down, hoping that for every second I wasted, brilliant plans were formulating in the back of my mind and would burst out once I'd finished getting rid of that odd green stain on the counter.  
It didn't happen. Instead images of Alex started to pop into my mind so I cleaned harder to try and force them out. I tried singing nursery rhymes, old 80's tunes and then Disney songs. Nothing worked. No matter how hard I tried, Alex's face kept forcing its way through into my brain. Well, I'm not surprised. He did always want to be the centre of attention.  
I look at the clock on the wall. It's five am and still totally pitch black outside. I think it's started raining again actually. I take another look around, seeing if I can waste anymore time cleaning something, or putting something back together. Something glints in the corner of my eye. I move closer. The Doctor's sonic-y torch, door locking screwdriver thing! He must have dropped it when that blue light surrounded him. I pick it up gingerly, testing its weight in my hand. It's oddly light. I copy his actions and point it at something, pushing buttons as I go. The café doors suddenly unlock with a clank and I drop the screwdriver.

'Awesome.'

I go to step out the door, I imagine it's safer than clambering through the hole in the window the Clone made, when I suddenly remember the unconscious one on the ground on the other side of the room. I turn around and sure enough it's still there.

My curiosity gets the better of me and I find myself wandering over to it. I can't tell if it's breathing… do clones breathe? How do you even make one of these things? What was it the Doctor said? Grown or created in a lab or something…

I can't even begin to imagine the amount of science involved with growing a _person_. I mean, we humans managed it with Dolly the sheep but …she was a _sheep_. They're hardly the most intelligent of creatures.  
I bend down next to the Clone and slowly begin to pull the hood away from its face.

Wow.  
The Doctor wasn't lying.  
Whoever created these things did a really bad job. I have no idea what they're supposed to be. If they're meant to look human to blend in on Earth – well, that failed. If they're some strange alien species, well, I'm pretty sure that failed too.

It has an eye on each side of its face but they look like two eggs sliding down a plate; they're so droopy and misshapen. I doubt they can even see out of them. There's no nose to speak of, just two pin shaped holes in the centre of its face. Two sharp fangs hang out of what I presume to be its mouth. Well… at least they've got the basic shape right – two arms, two legs etc. It's just a little bit too big, too wide, and the face was a complete fail. I'm just about to get up when I'm hit with that sudden feeling of vertigo again. I stumble back onto the floor, falling hard into a pile of chairs beside the door. My brain swims and my vision sweeps out of focus. I press the side of my face onto the tiled floor, trying to keep myself grounded. I'm terrified of what images are going to burst into my mind – I screw my eyes shut, willing this to pass quickly. But no images come this time. Instead, my head is full of sounds, noises that I'm not familiar with. Whirring, cranking, an alarm of some kind and something pulsing; It sounds like an engine. It's there for a matter of seconds and then, all of a sudden, I regain control of my body, the noises fade from my mind and I'm able to sit up again. I catch my breath, looking over to make sure this clone thing is still unconscious.

Okay, so I can't just see what's going to happen in the future – I can hear it too. So what was that? It wasn't like anything I've heard before…  
I sit up a little straighter. Or maybe I have. Only the once.

The TARDIS.

I clamber back onto my feet and race out of the unlocked door, the Doctor's sonic screwdriver tucked firmly in my pocket. It's absolutely chucking it down but I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my body, keeping my legs going, pushing me back towards the ruins of my house where the TARDIS will be. I come to a stop a few yards away from my front garden. There is a large 'Police – do not cross' banner stretching around the remains of my house. It's a complete mess. The fire is out now but there are still smouldering pieces of roof and furniture lying strewn across the road. I suck in a deep breath, sneak past the police cars parked outside and make my way towards the TARDIS. The sonic screwdriver gives an odd pulse in my pocket and I pull it out curiously. The end is flashing bright green and, after a few seconds of this, the TARDIS doors give a click and fall right open.  
Right, what now?  
I step inside and the doors shut tightly behind me. I can feel the energy of this machine racing through the air, surrounding me and pulling me forwards. It's almost as if it wants me to do something…

'I need to get to the Doctor,' I say. I frown at myself– I'm talking to a _machine_.

The consol gives a loud whine.

'I don't know where they've taken him,' I go on. 'But I think they're going to hurt him.'

There's a static fizzing sound from behind me and I whirl around quickly. My eyes go wide as I find Alex stood right by the doors; he's fuzzy, like watching him through a television screen, but it's definitely him.

'Oh shit,' I say, staggering backwards slightly. 'What the hell?'

'This is the TARDIS voice visual interface,' he says. 'I'm programmed to select the image of a person you esteem.'

'How did you get Alex's image?' I ask. 'He hasn't been here.'

'From your memories.'

I roll my eyes. 'You know, it would be great if everyone could just leave my memories alone!'

'The Doctor is in danger,' the TARDIS goes on. 'We must find him.'

'And how do you propose we do that?' I snap.

'I can pinpoint the location of the Clone's creation,' the TARDIS says. 'That should take us to the Doctor.'

'Okay – do that!'

'I will need the Clone.'

I frown again. 'Are you serious? I can't drag that thing all the way back here!'

'Then we shall go to it.'

The image of Alex fades and disappears quickly, leaving me standing alone. The TARDIS gives a jolt and I'm thrown forwards, only just managing to clutch onto a nearby railing.

'You know, take off could be a little smoother,' I remark. The TARDIS rocks again, throwing me off balance. This thing has some serious attitude.

The centre column begins to grind loudly and all of a sudden the Clone gradually begins to appear in the centre of the TARDIS. We've materialised around it somehow. Its hood is still down and it looks pretty shocked…and it's_ awake_.  
I hold back my girly scream this time and run around the other side of the consol. It starts towards me unsteadily.

'You said you were here to protect me,' I shout. 'So protect me. You can't harm me otherwise you'd be breaking your own rules.'

'You attacked me,' the Clone says.

'You stole the Doctor,' I tell it. Wait a minute… 'Clones don't have memories,' I say, edging back around the consol. 'How do you know I did that?'

The Clone looks puzzled. 'I don't know,' it says.

'You're different from the other one,' I say. 'You speak better. You sound almost human.'

'I am human,' the Clone says angrily.  
'No offence,' I say. 'But you don't look very much like a human.'

'I am reject stock. I did not turn out correctly.'

'Right…' Awkward. 'So what happens to the good stock?'

'They are sent to Earth to fulfil their mission.'

'And what's their mission?'

'To infiltrate your life.'

My chest goes very cold. 'I beg your pardon?'

'My master needs information about you. He created us to retrieve it. We are your work colleagues, we are your flatmates and we are old ladies in the street.'

'You're not my flatmates,' I say quickly. 'Alex is my flatmate. He's been the only flatmate I've had.'

'We are your flatmates,' the Clone says again.

'Alex is not a clone!' I yell. 'He's human!'

'As am I,' the Clone says.

'No you're not!' I shout. 'You're some messed up experiment!'

'We are created as human,' the Clone goes on. 'The Master did not anticipate the power of the human mind. Some of us created lives and personalities for ourselves. Others did not.'

I feel physically sick. These things have infiltrated my entire life.

'You're going to take me to the Doctor,' I snarl. 'And then I'll get the answers I need. But understand this; Alex was never one of you. He was my best friend and he was a _human being_.'

The Clone stares back at me for a few moments.

'I will take you to the Doctor,' it says. 'If you help me.'

'What could you possibly need help with?' I ask.

'Help me to become free.'


	11. The Doctor, the clone and me

**Chapter ten**

_The Doctor, the clone and me_

This isn't going to work. I don't know what I was thinking.  
I've just agreed to set a Clone free.

How does that even work?  
I feel a bit like Moses.  
I've let it take control – the TARDIS seems happy enough to let the Clone fly this thing to wherever we need to go.  
I wasn't nervous before but for some reason, my heart has started to thunder in my chest. What are we going to do when we get there?

I can't just waltz into this place, wherever it is, and demand to get the Doctor back. He could be anywhere… he could already be dead.

'So, where are we going?' I ask the Clone in an attempt to distract myself from that thought.

'To where I was created,' it replies simply.

'Can you elaborate at all?'

'The Void Galaxy,' the Clone goes on. 'We float on a station in space – we have no planet.'

'Why don't you have a planet?'

'Because there are none. The Galaxy is void of all life.'

The clue was in the title really but it still baffles me that there is an entire galaxy with no life in it at all. Well, except this crazy man who has apparently decided to create a fleet of Clones to infiltrate my whole life.

'What about your master?' I ask. 'The man who created you?'

'I have never seen him,' the Clone replies. 'I do not know his face or his purpose. I know nothing other than his obsession with you.'

I suddenly remember what the Doctor told me. '_You'd make a brilliant weapon._' I feel a shiver down my spine. I am essentially walking straight into the palm of this lunatics hand.  
But I can't leave the Doctor. He was trying to keep me safe. And now it's my job to return the favour. And perhaps, there's a small sliver of hope that we can get this mad man to leave me the hell alone.

I feel that's less and less likely as time goes on.

The TARDIS comes to a shaky halt and the engines die down to a low hum.

'We're here?' I ask.

'Yes.'

'On the space station?'

'Yes.'

'Okay…that was quicker than I was expecting.'

The Clone eyes me curiously. 'You are afraid.'

'Aren't you? This guy might have you destroyed for helping me.'

'There are many things worse than death.'

I'm stunned into silence for a few moments. Maybe this Clone was right. Maybe it's not so alien after all. Perhaps I should give it more of a chance.

'Do you have a name?' I ask. 'I keep referring to you as 'The Clone' in my head and it seems a bit rude.'

'I have no name that I am aware of.'

'Okay, well are you a boy or a girl?'

The Clone looks at me blankly.

'Male or female?'

'I do not know.'

'Okay,' I say, wishing I'd never asked. 'I'm just going to call you Cleo. Cleo the Clone...and you are a boy. Your jaw is way too thick for a girl.'

The Clone – no, Cleo, gives a slight grin at this.

'Are you ready?' he asks me.

I give a quick nod. Might as well get on with it.

We step out of the TARDIS side by side into bright white corridor. It's so white that it's almost blinding. I blink heavily a few times in an attempt to make my eyes adjust.

The overwhelming smell of bleach wafts up my nose and threatens to make my nose and eyes stream.

'They've over done it on the cleaning chemicals haven't they? Christ.'

'We are in a sterile environment. Conditions must be perfect in order to grow Clones.'

I nod in agreement. Cleo makes a fair point. He leads me down the long white corridor to a set of metal double doors at one end. He pushes them open cautiously and allows me to step through. I falter on the threshold, my mouth dropping open at the sight in front of me.

'What the hell is that?' I whisper.

We've emerged onto a walkway suspended in the air and secured by several heavy metal coils. If I look down I can see straight through the glass floor beneath me – right the way down into the blackness below. There's absolutely nothing down there. The drop seems to go on forever. My knees start to shake slightly beneath me and I clutch the railing lining the left hand side of the walkway. We're in probably the biggest room I've ever seen. Secured to the walls surrounding us are hundreds and hundreds of egg shaped pods, all holding a different human figure in what I think is some kind of amniotic sack. I feel physically sick.

'This is where you're grown?' I ask as Cleo directs me further down the walkway.

'This is the final stage,' he says. 'This is where we sleep until we are ready to be sent down to Earth.'

'All of these will be sent to Earth?' I ask, bewildered.

'Yes – in the chance that one of two of them may interact with you and pass back information to our Master.'

'What a waste of time!' I say. 'This guy spends all this time and effort creating hundreds of clones in the off chance that a few might actually get to know me?'

'You are very important to him.'

I scoff loudly. 'Yeah I gathered that!'

We continue down the walkway, well, I shuffle along clutching onto the railing for dear life, until we reach the other end and another set of double doors that take us back into another blinding white room. We're surrounded by doors, each leading off into a different room. Most are labelled but there's one in the corner which catches my eye.

'**Cloning Room.**'

'I bet you anything he's in there,' I say. 'Who wouldn't want to clone an alien who can travel through space and time?'

This room is entirely different to the last. Although there is the same awful smell of bleach wafting around, there's hardly anything in here. There's a small white desk in one corner with what I presume to be a microscope sat on top. There's a tray of pristine looking surgical instruments next to it and a single chair in the centre of the room.

'I thought it would be a bit more complicated than this,' I say. 'I mean, isn't Cloning a difficult process?'

'Perhaps on Earth,' Cleo says. 'It takes nothing more than a blood sample here.'

I glance at the tray of surgical equipment again, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

'But there are no syringes, how do they take blood?'

'With a scalpel,' Cleo says as though this is the most normal thing in the world. 'They need a high dosage of blood to be able to create a true life form. A main artery would provide all the cells needed.'

'They kill them?' I say loudly, forgetting myself. 'They kill the people they want to clone?'

'Sometimes death is an unfortunate side effect,' Cleo says. 'Sometimes the subjects live.'

'This is barbaric,' I mutter, desperately wanting to get out of this place and curl up in bed. I'm hit with a huge jolt of sadness as I remember that I haven't got a bed anymore, I don't even have a house and Alex… well, I still need to get to the bottom of that. I absolutely refuse to believe that he was a Clone. He was my friend.

Cleo directs me through a door at one end of the room which takes us out into another long corridor. I'm starting to think this is hopeless when I spy a long line of doors along one wall. They're wooden, locked with several large bolts and have metal bars across the window at the top. If that's not a prison cell, I don't know what is.

I walk along, peering in each door. There's an old man in one, cowering in the corner muttering something about a sheep farm. There's a whole family in another, all sleeping together on one battered bed. Two tiny children are squashed in the middle, their mother and father protecting them with their bodies.

'We have to help them,' I say. I turn around and find Cleo starting into one particular cell, his fingers winding around the metal bars.

'Do you know her?' I ask, coming to stand beside him. There's a young girl sat staring blankly out of the window. She doesn't appear to be much older than me.

'I do not know,' Cleo says quietly. 'I feel as though I am supposed to know her. Perhaps the body from which I am cloned knew her.'

'Did he survive?' I ask.

'Even if he did, he would have been sent home to his original planet. Either way, she has lost him.'

I pat his arm awkwardly as he lets go of the bars and we proceed further down the corridor. I'm starting to lose hope again when suddenly, out of the corner of my eye I notice another smaller cell tucked away in an alcove, away from the others. I approach it and breathe a heavy sigh of relief when I see who's inside.

'Doctor?'

The man in the cell wheels round instantly.

'Sophie!' he yells. He seems genuinely happy to see me. I study his face, looking for injuries really, but I can see a mischievous glint in his eye that says he knew I was coming all along. For someone who is totally closed off, he's actually very easy to read.

'You brilliant person!' he says, racing towards the door. 'You wonderful, amazing – who's this?'

'This is my friend Cleo,' I say. 'He's a Clone. I named him Cleo. And decided that he's a boy. We're helping each other out.'

He's eyeing me curiously again. This guy switches moods as easily as I can flick a light switch.

'How did you get here?' he demands.

'We walked…' I say, confused.

'You weren't stopped by anyone?' he asks.

I shake my head. Actually, when I come to think about it, I don't think we saw anybody at all. I look up at the Doctor who is clearly thinking the same as I am.

'They're letting us just walk around in here?' I say. 'They know we're here?'

He nods darkly and then his expression changes again completely. 'C'mon then! Let me out.'

I stare at him blankly. 'How do you propose I'm going to do that then?'

His face drops. 'Please tell me you picked up my Sonic Screwdriver,' he says.

'Oh yeah!' I say, pulling it out of my pocket. 'I totally forgot about that!'

He holds his hand out impatiently, twitching is fingers until I place it in the palm of his hand. He's so happy I think he's going to kiss it but instead he points it towards the metal lock and with a loud clunk, the door swings open.

'Off we go then!' The Doctor exclaims loudly.

'Wait a minute, the TARDIS is back that way,' I call out as he begins to march in the wrong direction.

'We're not going back to the TARDIS,' he says. 'We're going to pay this guy a visit.'

I freeze on the spot. 'Are you totally insane?'

The Doctor wheels round and heads back towards me. He places his hands on my shoulders tightly. 'Don't you want to know why he's after you? What his plans are?'

I pause for a moment.

'He's the man with the answers,' he tells me gently.

'I know,' I say, unsure of myself. I turn and look back at the remaining cells. 'Can't we help these people?'

'We will,' he says. 'I promise we will, but we can't help until we've had a work with the man in charge.'

I regard him silently for a few moments. It's a strange feeling to hardly know somebody at all but to trust them completely. He holds out his hand to me and I take it cautiously, allowing him to lead me the rest of the way down the corridor. Cleo follows us quietly. I've got a very bad feeling in my chest that this isn't going to be nearly as simple as the Doctor thinks.


	12. A comforting hand

**Wow, sorry it's taken my so long to upload another chapter! I hadn't forgotten about this story, I promise, life just got in the way for a little while! Anyway, I'm back! Woohoo.  
Hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter twelve**

_A comforting hand_

I don't know how long we've been walking for. I seem to have lost track of everything; time, meaning – I feel myself stumbling along behind the Doctor, my brain void of anything but how tired I am. My feet trip over one another and I grab hold of the wall for support. Cleo steps up behind me and places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I turn to face him; he's looking at me with what I think is meant to be a concerned expression.  
'You need rest,' he says.  
'There's no time,' I tell him.  
'You'll make yourself sick.'  
I laugh slightly at this.  
'There are far worse things than me feeling a little sick,' I say.

The Doctor stops beside a door a few metres ahead of us and gestures for us both to join him.  
'I think we might finally get some answers,' he says quietly.  
The sign on the door reads 'Extraction room.' I eye it nervously, all sorts of images racing through my mind. The Doctor takes my hand tightly and pushes open the door. We come face to face with an enormous window stretching the length of the room. Several men in white coats are wandering around with clip-boards on the other side; Cleo and I dive to our knees instantly. The Doctor pulls out his sonic screw driver and gives the window a quick scan.  
'It's okay,' he says. 'They can't see us. It's one way.'

I peer through curiously, trying to make sense of what's happening. There's a steel chair in the centre of the room occupied by a young woman. I can't see her face but she doesn't appear to be much older than me. The men in white coats are stood beside a large machine, covered in buttons and levers, taking notes and flicking switches. I feel instantly uneasy – whatever is about to happen here isn't going to be good. I glance up at the Doctor. His jaw is tight and he's glaring through the window with a fiery expression.  
'We need to leave,' he says sternly.  
'What are they doing?' I ask.  
'This is Extraction,' Cleo says.  
'Cleo,' the Doctor warns.  
'What?' I demand. 'What is it?'  
They both fall silent; Cleo is watching the Doctor warily, afraid to say anymore.  
'I have a right to know,' I say. I look back to the girl in the chair. She's struggling frantically against wrist and leg restraints. Something about her catches my eye so I step forwards towards the glass. Now that I look closer … her hair is almost the exact same shade as mine, her wrists as slender as my own, her feet delicate and petite like mine – the second toe longer than the big one. It hits me with perfect clarity.  
'That's me,' I say, it comes out as a whisper. 'That's me in there… how can that be me?'  
'It's not you,' the Doctor tells me. 'You're right here – that girl in there, she's a Clone. She's not you.'  
'She looks exactly like me,' I say, finally catching a glimpse of her face as she pulls her neck around to the side. 'I don't understand – I thought they had to have a blood sample to Clone somebody?'  
'To create an exact version of someone then yes, a blood sample would be needed,' The Doctor says. 'But for a Copy you could make do with a hair or skin sample.'  
'What's a Copy?'  
'A Copy of you – your body, your voice, your hair but with no advanced thinking capabilities. It's just a shell. An empty shell. That girl in there – she won't feel or understand anything that's going on.'  
I look up at the Doctor.  
'You told me that Clone's don't have memories and yet Cleo here can remember everything. He thinks like a human and acts like a human – he's a living being.'  
The Doctor glances sideways at him.  
'There are exceptions'  
'So what if she's an exception?' I ask. 'What if all the Copies and all the Clones are human, are capable of logical thought and human interaction…what then?'  
He's silent for a little while. 'I don't know,' he says. He sighs heavily and runs a hand through his hair. 'I don't know. I thought I knew, I thought I knew everything there was to know about cloning but this,' he gestures to the window angrily, 'I haven't come across anything like this before. It's completely new to me.'  
'So what do we do?' I ask.  
'First – we find out who is doing this. We find out what they want, we stop them from getting that and then we help everything single person they have trapped here.'  
I smile gently. 'Is it really that easy?'  
'Oh yes,' he says, rubbing his hands together. 'Do you know why, Sophie?'  
I shake my head.  
'Because they've made me angry – that's why.'  
I have a feeling he's going to say something else but an almighty shriek from behind the window draws our attention. The men in white coats are placing an odd crown like device on my Copies head. She's fighting like crazy trying to get it off.  
'She's not a Copy,' I tell the Doctor. 'Look at her. She's human.'  
In the background, a countdown has started. The Crown on her head begins to buzz and whirr frantically – the machine does the same and the men begin to take notes.  
'What's happening?' I ask. 'What are they doing?'  
'Extraction,' Cleo says again and this time the Doctor doesn't stop him. 'It's what they have been working on since they discovered your existence.'  
'That Crown works as a link to a mainframe computer,' The Doctor continues. 'It latches on to your thoughts and memories, singles them out and then extracts them from your brain. They can then view them on the computer screen.'

I feel like I've forgotten how to breathe for a moment.  
'That's what they're going to do to me, isn't it? To get my visions or whatever the hell they are?'  
The Doctor looks at me sternly. 'No,' he says. 'I won't let that happen.'  
'How can they just drag your memories out of your head like that? How is that even possible?' I stand watching the girl shriek in pain – the countdown has ended and the Crown is beginning to glow a brilliant golden orange. The machine is clicking away happily, recording information, the men are scribbling notes and all the while the girl is writhing in her chair. I've never seen anything like it. I've never seen anybody in that amount of pain before and yet I can't seem to drag my eyes away from her.  
'What happens when it's over?' I say, my voice doesn't sound like my own.  
'It depends on how much they wish to take,' Cleo says. 'If they take everything at once, then she will become what the Doctor believed she was – a shell, empty and incapable of thinking or feeling. Or perhaps they will take just one memory at a time.'  
'You were right,' I say to the Doctor. 'They'll use me as a weapon, taking my visions whenever they want.'  
A burst of panic sears through me and I have a sudden urge to sprint from this place and never look back. I suddenly wish I'd never met the Doctor, I wish I'd never bought coffee for that elderly lady and just hopped on my bus when it had arrived the other day. It feels like such a long time ago now.  
'Sophie,' The Doctor says calmly, taking hold of my hands. 'It's alright, calm down.'  
I hadn't even noticed I was taking giant, overcompensating breaths. I look down and see my hands shaking in his own.  
'I promise I won't let anything happen to you. I swore on your life, remember?'  
I nod. 'I don't want to be a prisoner here,' I say. 'I don't want them to use me as some kind of weapon.'  
'Neither of those things will happen.'  
'What if we can't stop them?' I ask. 'What if they won't leave me alone?'  
'We'll keep running until they do,' The Doctor says.  
I stare at him for a few moments, surprised to hear the words come out his mouth.  
'You can't make that kind of promise,' I tell him. 'I'm just a human, I'm nothing special.'  
The Doctor looks at me as if I'm insane. 'Oh Sophie,' he says. 'You're not just a human – I've never met anybody like you before. You're one of a kind. And I can make any kind of promise I want.'

The sound of the machine dying down behind the window catches my attention and I risk a look towards the girl in the chair. She's hanging limp, either unconscious or dead, I can't decipher which. The Crown has fallen to the ground in her struggles and is still glowing brightly. I watch it until it dies back to the dull brown colour it had been before.  
'Let's go and find this guy,' I say firmly. 'I want to have a word with him.'  
'I've got a better idea,' the Doctor says. 'There's someone who wants to see you first.'


End file.
